Books > Family Tree

Eleven-year-old Tyler Stoudt starts sixth grade off on the wrong
foot. Not only does she have Miss Custer, the toughest teacher in
school, but now Tyler is sure to flunk. Miss Custer has announced
that the schoolwork for the year will revolve around one project:
a family tree. Tyler doesn’t have a family tree—she has only Papa.
As Papa said, her family tree was “chop down and burnt up.”

Tyler decides to do her best on the family tree project. But whenever
she asks questions about the family, Papa acts cold, angry, and hurt.
Does she have grandparents, cousins, aunts, and uncles? Tyler wants
to know, but she is afraid of what she might find out.

“A poignant first novel about a young girl’s discover of her
father’s Amish upbringing and her own family’s past . . . As the
world of Tyler’s family opens to her, the writing is consistently
graceful; the unfolding story will enthrall readers.” —Kirkus Reviews

Family Tree is currently out of print. Please look for it in used
book outlets or at your local library.

You may also find copies of Family Tree in audio tape format through
Recorded Books 1-800-638-1304 or www.recordedbooks.com

The Story Behind Family Tree

I’d been writing for years, waiting and hoping to sell my first
book, but instead of sales and wonderful phone calls from editors,
I collected rejection letters and drawerfuls of flawed manuscripts.
Then Family Tree happened.

My mother needed surgery, and because of her health history, my
father and I worried. I planned to drive from Pittsburgh to Columbus,
Ohio and stay for several days to be with my mother and see my father
through the most trying days of her recovery. To ready myself for
the trip, I collected a tall stack of rock and roll tapes, so I could
play loud music. Without the music, I was sure my eyes would fill
with tears and I’d hit a truck on I-70, not especially helpful to
my parents.

I started the trip with the radio, but after a few miles, the Allegheny
Mountains interfered and I reached for The Rolling Stones Greatest
Hits. I pushed the power button, stuck the tape into the slot. No
music. I hit the eject button but the tape wouldn’t come out. I turned
off the power, but still nothing. No matter what I tried, I couldn’t
get the tape to play, or to come out of the machine. I stopped at
a rest area, fiddled with it again, pounded, and still no luck. I
had more than three hours of solo driving ahead and nothing to distract
me from my worry. Surely, I would hit a truck.

Armed with a soft drink, I restarted the car and pulled back onto
the highway. Within five minutes, I heard a girl’s voice, talking
to me, right there in the car. “. . . for the first half of my life
I didn’t know I was a girl. I didn’t think I was a boy or anything,
Papa was a big person, I was a little person, that’s what I knew.
Boy did I have some catching up to do when I hit school . . .”

And so I met Tyler Stoudt. By the time I reached Columbus, she’d
told me about two-thirds of her story, an amazing gift. When I arrived
at my parent’s house, it soon became clear that it was a gift to
them as well, for as I told the tale, the three of us had a strange
and wonderful happening to discuss that night. It distracted us from
the next day’s surgery. Fortunately, my mother came through the operation
beautifully and as she recovered, my father’s equilibrium slowly
returned. And I had a story to tell.

As soon as I returned to Pittsburgh, I spent long hours at the computer,
transcribing Tyler’s words. And for the first time, I had a book
with a character who lived and breathed and came alive on the page.
Previously, I’d written well-plotted books, with plenty of tension
and good pacing. But without a lively central character, those skills
did little good.

So what caused the change in my writing? Vulnerability, most likely.
My logical self wasn’t in very good shape during that trip so I was
open to something different. Fortunately for me, once Tyler kicked
open a door in my mind, I’ve been able to prop the door open and
other great characters have begun to visit and tell stories. I’ve
listened and let their personalities and histories lead me through
plots and as a result, I’ve sold books and stories.

But where did Tyler come from? Are there no similarities between
my life and hers? Of course there are. While I’ve never felt that
Tyler was me, she and I have history in common. My father is not
Amish, nor is my husband. But I spent my four college years in Amish
Country in northern Ohio, where I observed and learned about their
culture. I’m an only child like Tyler, and particularly close to
my father who is an antiques lover and woodworker in his spare time.
So I grew up loving the smells of wood and wax and varnish.

I often tell the story of how Family Tree came to me when I speak
with groups of teachers or children. The children always want to
know if my mother is okay, and I’m pleased to assure them that
she’s better than ever. But a woman once asked a harder question.
“Did you put that in your book? The part about your mother being
sick?”

“No,” I said. “I didn’t.” But of course I did, without knowing it.
Tyler lost her mother at birth. What was I afraid of as I traveled
the lonely miles between my home and Ohio? That I’d lose my mother.
And what’s my mother like? She’s a warm, loving woman who never meets
a person without liking and accepting them—a lot like Tyler’s mom.
So of course I put it all in the book. Or it sneaked in by itself.

That’s what I think happens when we write books. If we writers
open our minds and our hearts as our fingers travel the keyboard,
people and situations, fears and triumphs sneak into the pages.
Our histories, our wishes, our faults, our memories transform into
stories. And if we’re honest and careful in our craft, sometimes
those stories will catch hold and carry our truths to others.